


Avid Readers

by Rayearthmagic



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Give Prowl a Donut, Jazz Being Really Annoying, M/M, Prowl's Secret Secret, Rizo Bday Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 12:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12035571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayearthmagic/pseuds/Rayearthmagic
Summary: Jazz uncovers Prowl's deepest secret while having the world's most delicious donuts.





	Avid Readers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rizobact](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Rizo!!  
> Lots of hugs and cuddles! <3
> 
>  ** _WARNINGS:_** The NOTP ships mentioned in this fic are not mine, but of Prowl and Jazz. I believe in ship and let ship. Also, make sure to have a snack because you might get hungry while reading this.
> 
> That being said, enjoy! :D

It was a little known fact that Prowl was fond of the literary word. Besides policing and ensuring public safety, Prowl’s other interests extended to reading and writing, pursuits that not many mechs knew of. It was one of the many reasons why the enforcer had enrolled on the police force in the first place. He had the opportunity to do both by patrolling the streets and writing up reports of his daily activities.

If someone had asked him back on Cybertron, before the war, he would have confirmed that he had indeed found his ideal job. Had Prowl been forged, he wouldn’t have been more suited for this profession. It was great while it lasted. 

Now as Head Tactician and Second in Command of the Prime’s team on Earth, Prowl’s responsibilities were not too disparate from those on the police force. The main difference was that his higher position in the Ark’s command hierarchy meant that most of the mechs gave him space and didn't include him in their off-duty activities. He understood the reasoning behind it. No one really wanted to hang out with “the boss” once they punched out for the day. He didn't mind it overly much because he had always found the quiet of his office more appealing than the rowdiness of a bar, where it seemed was the mechs’ favorite place to destress. 

Hence no one, not even the intellectuals on the Autobots team, got close enough to get to know Prowl. Not of his extracurricular activities, of the degree of his passion for it, of how extensive his private library actually was in his apartment back in Praxus before the war… Save for Optimus, of course. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if there was anything their beloved leader wasn’t privy to. Occasional loneliness aside, he found that having secrets had its advantages. It made him mysterious and helped with his commander image at least.

On the Ark, Prowl certainly missed literature but had thankfully found solace in the post-battle reports that the various team leaders and field agents submitted to him. Some were quite dry but he still liked them to an extent. 

He found that he did enjoy the bullet point format that Ironhide used. Lists were an art in themselves, succinct and to the point. No time wasted, almost poetic in their prose and brevity. Sometimes Prowl couldn’t help but wonder if the weapons specialist preferred this style simply for its name. 

Optimus’ were straightforward and well written in rich Cybetronian. Prowl found those rather delightful to read. Optimus must have known how his Second derived pleasure from the documents because why else would some of his battle reports be almost rhapsodic? 

And then there were Jazz’s. Yes, those were the best, he mused. Ingenious and imaginative, they were even better than Optimus’ iambic essays. Prowl would admit that he pressed for the special ops agent’s written reports _only_ because they were always late and not because he was actually excited to see what the saboteur had fantastically composed. Sometimes the accounts of events were so ridiculous that he was glad for the remoteness of his office, lest someone heard him laugh out loud. 

The one about Megatron’s purple griffin was still the tactician’s all-time favorite. The whole situation was already unbelievably absurd, but Jazz’s twist on the summary made it into a true comedy, one of which Prowl had made a copy and revisited on times when he needed a pick-me-up. 

As much as Prowl enjoyed the team’s reports as a reliable source of reading material, nothing beat the websites that he had discovered on fanfiction. They were his secret indulgence. Surprisingly the Autobots and the Decepticons had quite a fandom, despite the trouble they caused for the inhabitants of the planet. Prowl had wondered what made Cybertronians so interesting for amateur authors to publish fictional tales about them. The genres ranged from adventure to horror to romance. And for various audiences as well. All the works were helpfully tagged on the websites. Some stories were riddled with emotions, others were entertaining, and quite a few were even more absurd than Jazz’s imaginings and ramblings. 

There were clandestine – or some not so secret – romances between Optimus and Megatron and other various interfactional pairings that made Prowl wonder where the humans came up with these crazy notions. Ratchet and Wheeljack, indeed! Although the two did have a dalliance at one point but it didn't work out, and they eventually parted ways amicably. 

There was no limit to the couples the writers “shipped”. Occasionally, Prowl turned to those when he needed a good laugh. One of the more more bizarre – but popular – ships was of Prowl with either one of the twins, and sometimes even with both at once. He wasn’t sure how he felt about those. Some even starred himself and Jazz as a pairing, but Prowl never laughed at those. 

Years ago when he had first discovered fanfiction, he had found some comfort in the fanciful stories for his unrequited love. Part of him was glad that another version of himself had the chance to love the mischievous mech. 

How the amateur writers knew so much about them was a mystery, but Prowl had lived his imaginary love life through their words for many years. When ultimately that wasn't enough to satisfy the longing in his spark, he wrote them himself, weaving tales of how he and Jazz wound up together. 

Yes, fanfiction was wonderful and he had immersed himself in them wholeheartedly on extra lonely nights, not barring the ones intended for “mature” audiences. He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy those. He frequently wondered how the writers knew so much about their alien species, including their anatomy, because some tales – marked as “explicit”– even made him blush in the dark of the night. 

Now those solitary days were long past. And as Prowl sipped his warm afternoon energon, he couldn't be happier. He looked up to greet the object of Prowl’s affections as he bounded into his office with much flourish. 

“Guess what I got here, Prowler!” Jazz practically sang as he deposited a colorful flat box on the table, in the corner area designated for meetings. 

“From the gleeful way you're acting, I'd wager a guess and say that it's something sweet.” Prowl got up to kiss the adorably energetic mech on the cheek. “Maybe something I like? Donuts, perhaps?”

“Aw, you're no fun t’ surprise.” Jazz drooped comically and Prowl couldn't resist kissing him on the lips and hugging him close for a moment. 

“I must admit that I’m rather eager to taste them.” Prowl’s doorwings wiggled with anticipation as he lifted the lid to the box. There they were, six artistically decorated donuts lined up in two neat rows of threes on the bottom of the box. Not two were alike. 

The two mechs paused to admire the delicate work. “Sideswipe said it was their best batch yet.”

“They have indeed improved in the craft.” Swallowing thickly, Prowl surveyed each round and colorful pastry with appreciation. Some were dusted with metal shavings and others had delicious looking toppings of glistening glaze or creamy clouds covered with star-shaped sprinkles. They looked as delectable as the ones he used to buy at his favorite bakery on Cybertron. Deciding on the funny-looking one, Prowl went to the sideboard for plates. “You spoil me, Jazz.”

Preening, Jazz grinned. “Well who else is gonna do it if not me? You?” He deftly plucked the one with green cream piled on high and placed it in his plate, licking the stray topping from his fingers.

“Keep spoiling me this way and I won’t ever need to.” Prowl served himself the one that looked like a very large Oreo cookie, with its two layers of cake and white creamy middle, and sat down with his drink across from Jazz. The first bite was pure bliss. He wasn’t sure what an Oreo tasted like but this donut was the perfect combination of sweet cream filling and the slightly bitter but rich flavor of the dark dough. 

Oh yes, the terror twins had really outdid themselves. It was hard to conceive that they had only started making pastries a year ago, when Sideswipe and Sunstreaker made surprise jellied energon to celebrate Ratchet’s sparkday. The medic had grumbled about idiotic commemorative celebrations but hadn’t managed to hide the small smile when he had the first bite. Since then, production was sporadic but got better and more varied as time went by. Soon, the whole Ark was anticipating the next time they dropped fresh baked goods. 

So far, Prowl had not missed a single batch, and it was all thanks to his wonderful mate. 

The thought made him pause. Yes, Jazz was his mate. Although it wasn’t anything new by now, the tactician still couldn’t help feeling grateful for his good fortune. What were the chances that the one you secretly loved for centuries actually loved you back? And to think they had both held back because they had thought the other would never reciprocate their feelings. The memory made Prowl want to headdesk – in private – sometimes. So much time had been wasted. How could both parties, reputed to for their cunning and strategy, be so woefully dense when it came to matters of the spark? Fortunately though, it all worked out in the end and his love life was no longer fiction. 

The couple enjoyed their snack quietly. Prowl had never felt so much at ease with someone. He enjoyed doing anything – or even nothing – with Jazz, as long as they were together. Even the silence in each other’s company was pleasant. 

“Didja know there’re fanfiction ‘bout us?” Jazz extracted another colorful pastry from the box and deposited it on the empty plate in front of him.

Prowl froze and fought hard for the processor crash to not overwhelm him. Thankfully, it only took a fraction of a nanosecond to regain control. Maintaining a normal outward expression, he ventured to ask, “Pardon me?”

Oblivious to Prowl’s internal crisis, Jazz continued, “I found this website with stories – fanfiction, as they call it – written just for fun by thousands of people – fans, actually – and we’re in ‘em!”

Had Prowl said that he loved those websites? As his face burned hot, he absolutely hated them.

“I tried hackin’ inta the server t’ find who leaked the info ‘bout us bein’ t’gether but it looked like it was just pure coincidence. Mech, these humans have some wild imagination! I’ve come across stories with me gettin’ it on with Soundwave! I mean, c’mon! Soundwave! I couldn’t decide whether t’ laugh or t’ run away screamin’.” Jazz pulled a datapad out from subspace and thumbed through the tabs quickly.

Jazz and Soundwave? 

The subject of being paired up with the Decepticons’ communications chief seemed to be the focus of the smaller mech’s conversation, not the fact that there were stories about Prowl and Jazz, despite their being a real life canon couple. Then it clicked. Jazz must have meant the Cybertronians on Earth when he said “us” earlier. Prowl vented a sigh of relief and finished his donut, chewing slowly and sucking on his fingertips to clean off the residual cream. 

“And didja know there’re 1168 works ‘bout us when I look for ‘Prowl and Jazz’? At least some of ‘em got it right.” 

Prowl almost choked on the last morsel of the donut, its deliciousness forgotten. A quick drink of energon helped it go down.

Jazz continued to be oblivious to Prowl’s discomfort and plowed on, dexterous fingers flying over the tablet. He suddenly exclaimed excitedly, “Look! There’s one of me winnin’ the Festival of the Five and your hand in sparkbond!” He glanced at Prowl with a smile but soon frowned again. “How do humans know ‘bout our traditions? Their species didn’t even exist yet when the last one ran.” He kept on perusing. 

Prowl wondered if he should say anything or just sit there quietly to save his dignity. But keeping anything a secret from his mate seemed like a lie by omission and weighed heavily on his spark.

“And here’s one of us as humans! Hah!” Then Jazz stopped and his visor sparked with amazement. “Dang, there sure are a whole lot ‘bout us interfacing…”

Sighing, Prowl selected a plain glazed donut from the box and wondered at the rich filling it would have. “I liked the one with the Festival of the Five.”

“Prowl! You’ve read fanfics ‘bout us?” Jazz’s visor was too bright and his smile too wide. 

“That author’s works are excellent, despite her pairings being erroneous sometimes. Her story about us having a feather war is also highly entertaining.” Prowl occupied himself by taking a bite of his treat. Oh! The magnesium custard filling melted on his glossa sublimely and Prowl purred at the flavor. At least there was some good in his day. Prowl loved the saboteur but sometimes Jazz was just exasperating. 

“Rizobact, huh?” Mirroring him, Jazz nibbled at his pink glazed donut with rainbow colored sprinkles. “Hey, it’s her birthday today.”

“Jazz, please don’t hack the humans’ websites.” 

“But their security is so easy to break! There’s practically no protection at all!” Only Jazz could make that half-repenting, half-mischievous expression. Thankfully, he quickly sobered up when he saw Prowl’s unimpressed look. 

Venting out another sigh, Prowl bit into his sweet confection. Sometimes Jazz was too snoopy for his own good.

“Could you hold this for me, please?” 

Prowl automatically took the proffered pastry Jazz handed him as he continued chewing on the savory donut, thoroughly enjoying the texture and flavor. The next thing he heard was the sound of a shutter closing while his picture was taken. “Jazz!”

“Thank you!” The roguish mech took the pink donut back and chomped off half of it. He then set off to typing rapidly on his datapad.

“What are you doing?” The tactician asked apprehensively. A sense of foreboding creeping up his spinal strut and into his doorwings had Prowl craning his neck up to see the screen, sweet dessert abandoned on his plate. Whatever Jazz was doing, it couldn't be good, especially when he was making that face.

“Thanking her for all the good stories with a photo of you as a birthday gift.” The other mech looked up briefly just to smirk at him. “She’s a big fan of yours, ya know. I just went through all her stories on that website... And her other social media accounts.”

Optics wide, Prowl thrust his hand out to snatch the datapad away. These shenanigans must stop. 

“Sent!” The infuriating mech smiled proudly while the tablet was yanked from his hands and nonchalantly sat back with his his arms folded behind his helm.

Aghast, Prowl stared at the screen. There was indeed no way to recall the message, short of hacking the receiving email server which he loathed doing. He groaned and stuffed the rest of the donut in his mouth. Despite the creamy flavor of the magnesium custard cheering him up slightly, he was feeling the beginnings of a processor ache. He knew he had a penchant to stress eat, but he couldn’t help it at the moment. He grabbed a twisty-looking donut and took a swig of his energon.

“Don't worry, Prowler! We made her a very happy human! I can monitor her email activity, if you want, and report on her reaction.”

“No! Please, Jazz. Just stop.” Prowl just wanted to enjoy the remaining treat in peace. It looked like something he had seen on a human dessert menu. If memory served him correctly, it was called a “funnel cake”. Curiously, it didn’t look like a cake or a funnel at all.

Jazz flashed him a sheepish grin and passed a hand over his, silently conveying reassurance. Grateful for the comforting gesture, Prowl decided to overlook the fact that _Jazz_ was the main reason for his distress. Besides, it was true that no real harm was done, and he did know that Rizobact was a fan of his. She would probably be delighted to see a picture of him. If only that picture with two donuts didn’t made him look like a glutton! 

The tactician relaxed when Jazz went back to surfing on his datapad, but the calm only lasted a minute, barely enough time for Prowl to take two bites out of the intriguingly crispy donut.

Visor bright, Jazz inquired happily, “So Prowl, what other fanfiction did you read about us?”

Trying not to fidget and to stop his doorwings from betraying his agitation, the enforcer leaned back into his chair and hummed noncommittally. 

“Look, there’s a bunch of fics tagged with sticky and spark sex. Aren’t you glad that there’s _some_ accuracy?” His visor flashed in a way indicating that Jazz was _waggling_ his brow ridges. 

Prowl wondered if he could throw his beloved mate out and just crawl under his desk and die. Raucous laughter had him glowering at the infuriating mech again.

“There’re also a bunch of people shipping you with the Constructicons. Do you like that, Prowler? A six-some? Sounds kinky.” Jazz looked at him expectantly, annoying slag-eating grin ever present. 

“No!” Even before they started dating, his withering looks were pathetically ineffective on the impish mech. Prowl knew that better than anyone. And yet, he couldn’t help pinning Jazz with his most stern stare.

As predicted, the pesky mech simply ignored it. “Hey lemme see what other fics they have ‘bout me. I wonder if there’s anything smutty?” 

The sense of foreboding tripled as Prowl deduced what Jazz would find. He polished off his crunchy pastry in two quick bites and nabbed Jazz’s remaining one and munched on it, uncaring if the other mech protested.

Jazz didn’t seem to mind or even notice. Whatever was on the datapad captivated him. “Hey, there’re tags of ‘Jazz/Reader’ and the most popular writer has over three hundred stories of the same pairing. Most of the other tags’re ‘getting together’, ‘blowjobs’, ‘sticky’, ‘blindfolding’… This sounds interesting!”

“Well you do have fans, Jazz.” Maybe there was a way to salvage his pride and dignity. Prowl covered half of his burning face with a hand. He knew exactly who that writer was.

“Aw, their fics’re pretty old. Last one was dated was a few years ago.” 

Prowl let Jazz calculate the last date and hack the account, because it was pointless to try and stop him, while he thought about the lack of plot in some of those stories. Most of those entries were Prowl’s deepest wishes and fantasies. Thankfully, self-insert fanfics were generally unpopular and he didn't have many followers and remained anonymous. It was the perfect outlet for his longing, allowing him to write anything he wanted. Oh, the things he'd done to imaginary Jazz in those tales...

“Last update was when we first started dating, Prowl...”

Prowl went around the table and sank to his knees after swivelling Jazz’s chair to face him. He took the saboteur’s smaller hands in his and rubbed gentle circles on the back of them. “I was your biggest fan for a very long time, Jazz.”

It was finally his mate’s turn to blush.

“What did you write about us?” He asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Smiling to himself, Prowl smoothed his hands down to Jazz’s knees and spread them apart. He looked up slowly, watching Jazz whimper. A pulse beat thickly under one of his palms. Arousal tingling in his lines, he licked his lips. “You know the answer to that already.” 

Jazz gasped when Prowl leaned in and nibbled his neck cables. “Can I read it?” He asked breathlessly, visor dimming.

Hands traveling up inside the thighs towards the heat at Jazz’s center, Prowl kissed his mate slowly and deeply until he was trembling and pliant in Prowl’s arms. He loved that Jazz was always so responsive and ready for him. “I think I'd rather show you instead. Now open for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the [picture](https://twitter.com/saralepew/status/879527083793412097) Jazz took. 
> 
> The humanized fic that Jazz found is the [Crackalackalicious series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/18408) by the ever-gracious ladydragon76, who also helped beta this fic. Thanks soooo much, LD! You're a doll! <3
> 
> Rizobact's works mentioned in the fic:  
> [Festival of the Five](http://archiveofourown.org/series/353039)  
> [The Great Feather War](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8424628)
> 
> /end of shameless fic plugging
> 
> Thanks for reading! Now go get yourself a donut, Oreo, or funnel cake! XD


End file.
